The History and Death of Yami Bakura
by Invader Sam
Summary: Back in the days of Pharaoh Yami II's rule, his half-brother, the Temple Raider Barak found that there was more to life than theivery...Note: this is our version of his history - not the offcial story.
1. Part 1: The Caravan Ruins

A Note From the Authorial Figures: Alright - this takes place in ancient Egypt, during the time when Yami was Pharaoh, and Yami Bakura (hereby known as Barak) ran rampant through the streets of Cairo. This story is our version of the events leading up to the final confrontation between the two half-brothers...And the rating is subject to change. Enjoy!

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Barak & Tola: The Untold Story

By Invaders Sam & Shaun

Pharaoh Yami II unfurled the scroll of the morning reports, as he sat down to break his nightly fast in the royal meal hall. His queen, Dedi, sat at his right hand, distractedly eating while her main attention was on him. His brow creased and she asked, "What is it?"

"Another convoy has been raided," he huffed irritably, "The smoke was seen four shadows after dawn coming from the position their last messenger relayed. Our scouts barely looked at the scene before setting out to find the bandits," the mightiest ruler of Egypt threw his information aside, a foul mood befalling him. It was the fourth time in less than a quarter season trade caravans headed for Cairo had met this fate.

"It seems we're always one shadow too late," Dedi sighed, "Perhaps some of our own military could be spared to use as escorts to the caravans?"

"It is too great a risk to the country for them to abandon their posts around my people and their cities," he tapped a finger on the table, pondering, "And they are still trying to track down the Temple Raider. I dare not unleash the power of the Gods with both High Magi Seti and the holder of the Millennium Ring at large." The more he spoke of his current situation, the darker his frame of mind became. It was a difficult time to be Pharaoh. The fact that the summer months dragged on and made living conditions uncomfortable did not help, "My peoples' happiness and prosperity is the most important thing right now. What men I can spare will be looking for the raiders first."

Dedi nodded solemnly, when she had agreed to marry Yami she had known there would be difficult times, but she had not realized to what extent. She accepted them, and was grateful her husband allowed her into his confidence, but all the same, she couldn't help but pray that better times were coming. "I understand," I only hope the bandits can be located before any more of our civilians are placed in danger. The dessert is such a lonely place to die…"

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The wreckage from the latest attack left much to be desired to the eye. Not that it mattered. The raiders were idiots. They would take what was large and shiny and be on their way. They always left the diamonds in the rough. Barak slid down off of his weather-worn horse, surveying the scene. The desert sun blazed away, attempting to make him retreat from the scene. The blood-stained, dirtied gray cloak he wore clung to his back from the sweat his body produced. He let down his hood, beginning towards the ruined and smoldering wagons at a leisurely pace. The Millennium Ring around his neck shone brilliantly, the only garment amongst his possessions not tainted by his particular…profession.

The smell of burned wood and flesh smothered him as he moved about the remains, examining everything. From his cloak, he drew a draw-string sack and began to fill it with what trifles he could recover. There was no food of course – there never was. But there were jewels on the dead bodies that had not been damaged by the now dying flames. He picked his way through the caravan, overturning wagons as he went. One wagon in particular revealed beneath it a young woman, whose body had been protected from the fires the bandits had lit. 

He knelt beside her lifeless form. Her hair was a shining brown, her skin smudged with clay and soot. Her thin figure was draped in a cloak a bit less dirtied than his own, and around her neck was an exquisite piece of jade carved into a scarab. Eyes shining with greed, and appreciation for the finer things in life, he reached for it.

The woman's hand shot up instantly and caught his. He stopped, staring at her wide-eyed, having taken her for dead. Her eyes flickered open for a split second before she lost consciousness again. _'It was a reflex…' _he thought as her grip loosened and her hand dropped to the sand. Apparently the bandits had missed one. _'Idiots…' _ He yanked the necklace off of her and tossed it into his bag with the rest of his things. Then he got to his feet, slinging the sack over his shoulder and heading back to where his horse stood waiting.

The thief began tying the pack to his animal's saddle. It whined softly, shifting its hooves on the burning desert sand in protest. Barak growled irritably, "None of the others ever complained this much. I certainly won't miss you once you're dead," he told the horse, climbing up onto it. Travel animals (between his harsh ownership and the desert conditions) never lasted long. Not that it really mattered. If they died, it was a simple task to steal another. People were always so careless with their valuables.

He shifted his grip on the reins and mistakenly took one last look at the wreckage. The body of the lone survivor was still clearly visible, the soft brown hair being lifted up by the dessert breeze. With a snort, he jerked the reins and the beast moved off at an easy pace. He did not get far, however.

Cursing himself for his "bleeding heart" (he always was such the softy), Barak hopped down off of his animal and trekked back over to the girl. He picked her up with one arm and hoisted her over his shoulder. Once she was able to traverse on her own, his cave wouldn't have to be burdened by the likes of this filth.

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Tola awoke to the smells and sounds of burning wood. Her last memory being the sight of a team of bandits on horseback galloping over the hill towards the caravan, she sat up sharply. Instantly she regretted her hasty move. Whatever she had been lying on had been unstable, and her sudden movement had caused it to capsize, sending her sprawling onto a hard rock surface. Her head throbbing, she moaned and sat up for a second time, massaging her temple. _'Where am I…? I remember we were being raided…but what happened after that?' _

She looked around, she was in a cave of some kind, its walls were lit by the flickering flames she had smelled. Her gaze traveled to the fire, and she could make out a figure hunched over in front of it. A bandit, perhaps? But they never traveled alone. He hadn't heard her ungraceful return to the world of the wakeful, or if he had, he was ignoring it. As her eyes grew more adjusted to the dim light, she could see he was sorting through a bag of what had to be jewels. She drew her legs under herself as she watched him, not knowing if she should try to speak with him. Judging by the amount of stolen goods that littered the cave, he might have been a member of the bandits after all. Perhaps the others had left him to watch her – see that she didn't escape.

Barak was examining the necklace she had been wearing. The light of the fire shone on it brilliantly, making it seem almost life-like. The girl had fallen out of his sleep-hammock. Idiot, "You're awake," he said finally, breaking the silence of his home, "I was beginning to wonder whether I was mistaken in my belief that you were alive."

He was no bandit. His speech was too perfected, not anything like the course dialect of the raiders. She spotted her necklace in his hands and wanted to demand that it be returned to her, but instead only asked, "Who are you?"

The man scowled at her, his dark brown eyes seeming almost to glow in the light of the conflagration, "Does it really matter?" He stood erect, walking over to a large pile of bags and tossed the latest one in, his dirtied, cut-up fingers still twirling the necklace between them.

Her lips pursed as she felt the ever increasing desire to reclaim her property. "I only wish to know whether to call you kidnapper or rescuer," she told him simply, her hands twisting the skirt of her cloak distractedly.

"Unless you call dragging your burning carcass from that wreckage kidnapping, I presume you'll call me your rescuer," Barak told her, returning to the fire to watch the dead jackal he was cooking over it.

"I assume then, you do not count yourself among the bandits that no doubt destroyed my family," her voice shook only slightly, as the fate of her kin dawned on her for the first time.

"No. I make it my business not to associate with the idiocy of the desert."

She nodded. He was not among her family's murderers, but judging by the state of his clothing, he was not above the slaughter of living creatures. She wondered how much of the blood that bedecked him belonged to human victims. 

From outside, a loud, almost-whining _Neigh!_ Was heard from just outside the grotto, causing a short groan of tetchiness to escape from the thief's lips, "I eagerly await the day that animal dies," he commented. Conversation with others was a rare occurrence for Barak, as he didn't particularly like any of the beings of his species. His subject matter for discussion probably didn't suit the girl, but he really didn't care.

Tola blinked once, puzzled. "Why would you want you mode of transportation to die?" she asked.

"It's easy enough to acquire another one," he told her shortly, folding his hands and resting his chin on them, "Hopefully the next one won't complain as much!"

"That's terrible…" she said, getting to her feet, feeling a bit braver then she had originally. She strode past him to the cave entrance, and climbed up the few step-like structures out to the open dessert. The sky was red with twilight, and the sand matched. Tied to what was left of a frail-looking dead tree, was what had at one time been a beautiful white stag. At the moment, it was pawing at the ground and whinnying impatiently. Cooing to it softly, Tola managed to get close enough to stroke its head gently. "You poor thing…"

Barak snorted, feeling more and more disgusted with himself for rescuing the young woman. The pendant in his hand felt smooth against his course skin. It was a rare find…and the least that she owed him for his trouble. He turned the burning animal on its spit, making sure every side of his former prey was well prepared. He licked his lips, managing to take his mind off of his situation for a moment. The meat of a lively animal was always better than that of the desert rats that clung to his cavern like flies on a cadaver.

A moment later she reemerged, sandals making barely any sound on the stone floor, "Do you even feed that animal?"

"Once a day, yes," he answered, not looking up.

"If you would care for that creature properly, it wouldn't complain," she said, "And it would probably last you ten years, at least."

The tomb robber laughed bitterly, "Who needs commitments such as that? Why not let the beast die and take another? There are plenty, after all…"

Tola sighed, planting herself down opposite him in front of the fire. "Judging by the brand on its side, it was once a prized race horse," she said mildly, "In the right hands, it would be nigh uncatchable. Isn't that something a thief would desire?"

He looked up at her, distracting himself from the smell of his cooking meal, "What makes you say I'm a thief?"

She pointed at his folded hands, "The fact that you have my necklace that was given to be as an engagement present by my fiancé. Who's most likely dead…along with the rest of the caravan except for me."

He let the bauble slip from between his hands, retaining control of it by the chain on a single finger. It twirled around slowly, the fire still being reflected in it, "I have no need for a fast horse," he said, finally answering her question, "No one can stop me whether they catch me or not."

"I see…" she said, though not fully understanding.

There was a short pause, in which silence settled in. It took several minutes for the awkward lack of noise to be broken, "Dinner is ready, if you're hungry." With ease, he removed the animal from its place over the fire and pulled a knife out from the folds of his cloak.

It didn't look appetizing, but it smelled good and she was starving. "Yes, please," she nodded.

He nodded and began to slice of pieces of the meat from the animal's side. Barak set down his knife, which now had a crimson blade from its work. The large hunk of cooked animal innards he gave to her was still dripping with blood, though it was now heated and runnier. The thief licked his lips in anticipation.

Tola took the meat gingerly with one hand, while she tore a length of cloth from her cloak, with which she wrapped the meat, to better protect her hands from its heat. The linen quickly soaked with blood. She felt her stomach church with a mix of revulsion and hunger. Exposing the top half of the slab, she blew on it, watching the steam rise and fade before biting into it tentatively. It was surprisingly tasty and she swallowed, hurriedly unwrapping more.

Barak held his own burning meal in his bare hands, biting into the meat furiously and tearing off a decent-sized piece that he barely chewed before swallowing. The maneuver caused small droplets of blood to spatter about, but the thief merely licked his lips and continued.

Tola did her best to ignore him, knowing that watching him for too long would most likely interfere with her appetite. They both finished at almost exactly the same time.

Barak smiled savagely, quite satisfied. He tossed the bone he was still holding in his hand into the fire, causing a few short crackles and sparks.

Tola wrapped up the remains of her own meal, setting them aside and then wiping off her hands on her cloak. A few of the embers from the flame shot out near her and she leaned backwards instinctually.

The wild-haired man raised an eyebrow at his rescuee, confused, "What are you doing?" he asked, nodding at her saved meat.

"I can't eat it all," she said, "What else am I supposed to do with it?"

The thief rolled his eyes, "Burn it, bury it, I don't really care," he told her, standing and stretching, his spine making several odd cracking noises, "Dispose of it or the rats will swarm tonight. I don't particularly feel like having my home overrun by those creatures."

She shuddered, and tossed the remnants of her primitive feast into the fire, jumping back again in surprise as the flames rose up near her face.

Unable to contain himself, Barak laughed out loud, "Foolish girl!" he cried, picking up a stick from the blaze (one end burning) but no smoke seemed to come from it, "Do you fear fire?" the man asked, waving it close to her.

Her eyes threatened to leak humiliated tears. Of course she feared fire – hadn't it been the weapon used in destroying her family? She forced herself to look past it and find his face behind the flames. "Why did you bring me here?" she asked him, voicing the question that had been dwelling in the back of her mind ever since she had awoken, "To mock me?" A new possibility struck her and she added, "If you're intending to rape me, please get it over with."

Disgusted by her train of thought (and opinion of him) he tossed the stick aside. This was nothing but a scared little girl. A brat, and nothing more, "I brought you here to spare your life!" he shouted, the Millennium Ring appearing around his neck in a flash of gold as his emotions rose, "And you aren't worth my spit, let alone my time!"

Infuriated and doubly frightened by the appearance of the infamous Item, she fled the cave with such a rush of wind from her flowing cloak that the fire leaned dangerously. Having nowhere to go and no idea where she even was, she flung herself down on the moonlit sand outside. The thief's horse whinnied softly and nudged her with its nose. Tola pushed herself upwards in response, and with sand and tears smearing her face, she took comfort in the company of her fellow prisoner.

Still inside the cave, Barak took several deep breaths, trying to clam himself down. He noticed the Millennium Ring around his neck, but didn't think much of it. He had lost control over that particular spell in his rage. He sighed and sat down on his large stone; No one ever understood him. He had always been destined for loneliness and solitude, ever since his father's banishment of him and the death of his mother. Perhaps his joke had been too harsh for the girl, but what had he ever done to make her think he would take advantage of her in that way?

Outside, Tola shivered, pulling her cloak more tightly around herself. The cold dessert nights were not unfamiliar to her, but she usually found herself surrounded by her younger brothers and sisters, their body heat providing substantial warmth for all through the sunless hours. She brushed the mess from her face as she admonished herself for dwelling on the past. It was over now – she was alone and she had to accept it. No one left in this world cared if she lived or died. She would have to grow stronger – learn to survive on her own. Her own life was all she had left to cling to. 

Barak glanced up at the entrance of the grotto. He wouldn't be surprised if she tried to smother him in his sleep tonight. Or worse...try to make off with his latest additions to his collection. Not wasting any time, the tomb robber walked briskly over to his large, bagged pile of stolen valuables and lied down atop it, resting his hands behind his head. Ungrateful whelp…

Tola didn't dare reenter the cave, though she was astonished that he hadn't chased after her. With a temper like that, she would have to watch what she said to him in the morning. If she lived to see the morning. As she curled up beside the stallion (which had lied down next to her a few moments ago, weary of standing), she thought mildly that if the stranger didn't emerge to murder her in her sleep, the cold of the night might do the job for him.


	2. Part 2: A Question of Loyalties

Authors' Note: Sorry for the delay in updates - things have gotten pretty crazy as we draw towards the end of the school year. Things should pick up again once Summer Vacation starts! Thanks for your patience!

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**Part 2**

When she awoke the next morning, the morning sun was warming her body. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and as she lifted her weight from the stallion, it nudged her affectionately. She stroked its nose appreciatively then shook the sand from her hair. She was alive – that was a good sign. Did she risk reentering the cave? The thought of escape crossed her mind as she looked at the horse, but again her unfamiliarity with her surroundings brought her to her senses. If she was ever going to get anywhere, it would have to be with the stranger's help.

Summoning her courage, she got to her feet, brushing the dust off of her clothes. Then she descended the stairs back down into the cave. The air inside was still and silent but for the thief's slow, heavy breathing. He was sprawled on his back, atop his pile of treasures, one hand behind his head, the other resting on his stomach. He looked almost harmless, like a child protecting his toys. She took a step towards him, but her sandaled foot landed on something soft that let out a shrill squeak. She jumped back as a rat scampered out from under her foot, dazed but not really hurt.

"Don't let it get away," Barak reprimanded her, both eyes still closed. Years of dangerous living had made the man a light sleeper, though the habit wasn't the most efficient at reenergizing him. That was where the power of the Millennium Ring came in handy. He leapt up, fueled by his Item's magic. Before the rat took more than a dozen steps, the small, filthy creature was captured firmly in the thief's hand. He straightened up, cracking his neck once and looking the young woman in the eyes. With his free left hand, he grasped the rat's head and gave a forceful twist. A small, sickening popping sound and the animal fell limp.

"Why did you do that?" she asked him, shocked and slightly disgusted.

He grinned demonically at her, "Breakfast."

Rat had literally no taste, but it was something to keep from going hungry to say the least. And it wasn't nearly as bloody as jackal. Tola finished her portion quickly and sat with her hands folded in her lap, watching him continue his meal silently.

Barak spat out a piece of bone he had accidentally snapped off of his meal's rib cage, then wiped his mouth, "There's never enough blood in rats," he remarked mildly, surveying the meager serving of food with distaste, "It's the blood of the creature that seasons it most." He explained, chucking what was left of his sloppily devoured vermin into the dying fire.

"I always wondered where the flavor came from…" she said dryly.

He scowled, noting what he was almost certain was sarcasm in her voice. The man stood and walked out of his cavern. That's what he got for trying to make conversation. The thief got to the surface of the desert, looking about in the blazing sun. Where was that damn animal?

He felt a bump against his back and whipped around. The stallion had come up behind him, apparently expecting to be fed. He heard more movement and saw the girl appearing out of the mouth of the cave. "I think he's hungry," she commented, coming up and stroking the creature's mane.

Barak cracked his neck, "Really? You figured that out all by yourself? I couldn't tell…" he told her, his voice dripping with derision, "And what would the master horse have today, mistress?"

She glowered at him, "If we're both such a burden to you, perhaps I should just take him and save you the trouble of having to do away with us."

His temper rose once more to the surface, threatening to bubble over. The Millennium Ring glowed golden for an instant, causing Barak to take in a deep breath in an attempt to keep his cool, "The horse is always hungry," he told her through clenched teeth, "I was merely suggesting that you had a wonderful grasp of the obvious."

"Indeed," she shot back, "I merely commented because I wondered if perhaps _you _didn't."

"Whether I decide to feed my property or not is none of your business!" he told her hotly, fists clenched tightly together.

"He's _not_ your property!" she replied, temper rising just as quickly as the color in her face, "Forgive me if I fail to recognize thievery as a mark of ownership." She was pushing her luck, she knew it, but she had almost gone beyond caring, her fear boiling over into misplaced anger.

"SHUT UP!" he shouted, pulling back his arm and backhanding the young woman across the face. His Item flared with golden energy again, fueled by his rage.

She fell back, sprawled against the sand, and then raised herself up to a sitting position, a stinging welt rising on her cheek. Eyes burning, she stared up at him, knowing that if he were to attack, there would be nothing she could do to stop him. And…in the farthest back corner of her mind, this excited her. She'd never encountered someone as dangerous as this stranger, and in a terrifying way, she was fascinated.

Barak's breathing was heavy as he stood over her. The man had killed in cold blood before and could do so on a whim, but for some reason…he couldn't bring himself to be rid of this girl. He turned and stormed into his cave home, wind blowing his cloak behind him. She was young and had much to learn about the ways of the world. While he wasn't exactly and appropriate figure for such lessons, her stupidity couldn't be cured by death.

She turned away from his retreating figure angrily. In his eyes, she was so far beneath him he couldn't even see her. She was just a nuisance, just another rat whose neck he had decided wasn't worth snapping. Her own half-hearted words floated through her head and she got to her feet. Quickly, she mounted the stallion and dug her heels into his sides.

The creature reared excitedly and took off at a gallop across the sands.

Barak heard the noise and ran towards the open surface again, eyes wide. He watched as the girl rode off with his transportation. He was tempted to follow her, but his feet would not move. The thief knew he had driven her away, just like he did everything. Everything but the rats…

The wind whipped her hair back away from her face as Tola rode on, the sand scratching her face. She leaned down closer to the stallion's neck, trying to shield herself but to no avail. She tugged the reins and the steed slowed to a stop. She sat up straight, squinting against the blinding sun, scanning her surroundings for anything that might indicate her whereabouts.

There was nothing but dunes as far as she could see. She sighed and hung her head. Leaving was probably the worst thing she could have done. She had never been on her own before, and taking off into the dessert without a clue as to where she was heading had been rash and stupid. She would probably die of starvation before she made contact with another human being. Not only would she die, but so would the stallion, whom she had wanted to restore to its former glory.

She stroked its mane gently, whispering, "I'm sorry I dragged you into this. You were probably better off with the thief…"

"Not lost, are you?" a strong voice called from the top of a high dune. The breeze blew sand about the figure's black coated horse, but the animal seemed unaffected in the least. The man's face was shrouded by a dark veil, only his nearly-pure black eyes visible to the desert. Many different small pouches and sack hung from the horse's saddle, stuffed with objects unknown. Upon the man's hip was a thin, plain, brown sheath.

She felt hair on the back of her neck rise, "No…" she lied, "Just letting my horse rest…but thank you for your concern."

"No trouble at all. Anything for a lady, right boys?" All around the man, other masked riders on dark horses began to appear, their animals walking slowly down the large sandbank and forming a loose circle around the lone rider.

She glanced around nervously at the band of men and then recognition shot through her like a jolt of pain. The dark riders…they were the same ones who had attacked her convoy…the ones who had destroyed her life…

Panicked, she yanked the reins hard and the stallion reared up, and then she pushed forward, hoping to cause a break in their circle. If she could just catch them off guard…maybe she could outrun them. But to where?

Two of the men closed in, making a narrow pass that Tola's horse was just barely able to squeeze through. As she past so close to them, the two riders each reached out an arm and yanked her from her steed, knocking her to the ground. The leader of the group rode into the center of the circle, his veil now undone. He smiled toothily, several golden teeth embedded in his gums where real ones had rotted away, "What were you running away for?" he asked calmly, "Surely a tough, independent girl like you isn't afraid of a bunch of bandits like us!"

She scrambled to her feet, "What do you want with me? I've got nothing for you to take – I'm useless to you."

The men around her chuckled collectively, "Fetch the animal," the leader told said, and one of the two that had stopped Tola galloped off to collect the now thrice-stolen horse. The man hopped off of his animal, walking towards the frightened young woman at a leisurely tempo, "The Pharaoh's men scour these dunes, searching for us. It is difficult to keep the spirits of these bloodthirsty men high." He nodded at her, licking his lips. Only an idiot could not understand his meaning…

"You…I…" she stammered, her eyes wide. She turned to run but was caught by two pairs of strong arms. More of them had dismounted, and the pair that had caught her, spun her violently, turning her back towards their leader as she struggled in vain. "You…can't!" she whimpered as the circulation in both her arms was slowly being cut off.

"Let her go."

The bandits turned, and the leader smirked, "Look who's come to play hero, boys," he said jovially, as if privy to some secret joke, "The Tomb Robber." The laughter of his men drifted through the hot, dry air and Tola felt her knees go weak with relief. Had he really come looking for her?

"Don't press your luck with me, Cain," Barak warned, taking several strides forward. His Millennium Ring remained a constant glowing gold, like a warning to those that opposed its power, "Leave the girl be and be gone! This desert has enough filth without you polluting it further with your presence."

"What is she to you, rat?" Cain said, taking Tola's chin in his hand, "What so special about her that you would be willing to fight us for her? She's not even that attractive…"

"I said let her go!" Barak shouted over the laughter of the bandits, "That should be sufficient reason for you! I don't give second chances," he warned the man, entering into the circle of riders, "Ride away from this place now or I will slaughter you all!"

Cain grinned, gold teeth flashing, "Boys…show the Temple Raider what happens to those who interrupt our fun." The bandits moved in closer, swords and knives drawn. The two holding Tola moved back, to give the fighters more space.

One of the thieving killers leapt forward, his blade glaring from the sun. Barak dodged, his speed enhanced by his own magic. The man landed, surprised and off-balance. Barak was standing next to him, scowling. He relieved the man of his weapon by grasping his arm with one hand and twisting the bandit's hand with the other. He picked up the forcibly discarded sword and stabbed the man through the chest. A small, golden aura began to surround the Temple Robber, his Millennium Ring and adrenaline increasing his abilities.

Enraged, the others all charged at once until Tola could see nothing but a tangle of moving bodies and blood. Then she felt the grip on her right arm loosen. The two men holding her were preparing to join the brawl. Before she could even think of escape, one of them struck her hard on the back of the neck and everything went black.

When she awoke again, the sun was just past dead center, and she was in the shade. She sat up, massaging her sore neck, trying to get a grasp on her surroundings. The shade was from trees, which were all around, and the deadly heat was lessened by a slight breeze coming off the surface of a pool of blue water in the center of the trees. _'An oasis…' _she thought.

A small snorting noise made her turn, and come face to face with the white stallion, which was lying beside her contentedly. She stroked its muzzle absentmindedly and then looked down at herself. Her cloak was stained in dried blood, but she felt no real pain. The blood did not belong to her. Suddenly, as the memories of the bandits returned to her, she scanned the area quickly. The Temple Raider was nowhere to be seen.

Barak was sprawled out on his back under a small waterfall. The fight with Cain and his men that he had been avoiding for some time had taken a toll on the thief, but there had never been any doubt in his mind about the outcome of the battle. His head was pounding though. The large number of enemies had made injury unavoidable. A large, bleeding slice on his chest from a rival blade was the most significant (and painful, he hated to admit) wound he had received. His cloak, discarded on dry land (along with his other garments), was covered with the red blood of Cain and his minions and cut to pieces. Other smaller knife and sword wounds made his arms a crimson mess. The rock on which he lied mixed his bodily fluids with the pure fresh water, causing a watery, reddish mix. It was terrible pain, but the water helped to sooth him somewhat. What had possessed him to do such a thing…?

Concerned, Tola had taken to exploring the small amount of jungle surrounding the water, following the small stream that branched off from the main pool. Had he left her here alone on purpose? Perhaps he had crawled off to die someplace? Could he really have taken enough wounds for that? She didn't want to believe it. She needed him to be strong – impenetrable. She needed him to get out of this mess she'd stumbled too willingly into.

The stream water began to be tinted with red and she quickened her pace, frightened. Something really had happened to him. He could be dying and here she was worrying about herself. She broke through into a new clearing and stopped dead in her tracks, her breath caught in her throat.

She had found him.

Sprawled stark naked under a waterfall, the water around him filled with blood. "Oh my gods…" she murmured, one hand flying up to her mouth. A part of her wanted to just turn around and pretend that she hadn't seen anything. Another part wanted to stand there and stare at him forever. The third, far more reasonable part of her mind (which was quite numb at this particular juncture in time) urged her into motion, heading towards him rather than away. Drawn by a desire to help him, she threw off her own cloak, revealing the thin tunic and pants beneath it, and waded towards him.

_'Is he even conscious?' _she wondered as she the water and blood soaked her pant legs, _ 'If he is, he'll probably kill me for being here…' _She stopped right beside him, the waterfall cascading over her head and shoulders, gazing down at him, wondering what she should do.

Having let his mouth hang open slightly, water now threatened to choke him. Barak began coughing, spitting up flakes of blood along with the excess water. There was movement around him. Weakly, he opened his eyes, trying to bring the world into focus again. What he really needed was a good night's rest, not more distractions.

Shakily, he began to try to sit up. Having expended enough magical and physical energy to allow him to kill twenty men, the thief knew very well that he was spent. His eyes spotted something that looked distinctly like human feet, and he tried to crane his head upwards to see who it was. The girl…he didn't have enough energy to care that he was in the nude before her. She was going to take her revenge for his earlier rude comments. What a pitiful way to die. His cheek muscles twitched ever so slightly, then his eyes rolled back into his head and he fainted, unable to support his consciousness anymore.

Moving without thinking, she caught him, ignoring the blood that ran from his body onto hers. She slowly lifted him up and dragged him onto the shore, laying him on top of her cloak. Wishing she had more cloth to work with, she began tearing strips from the bottom of her tunic with which to bind his wounds.


End file.
